by Jones, K. J.
“How can a lawyer be that related to such people and not get drawn in?”
“I don’t know. My dad sells foreign cars. He wishes he was connected.”
“Why do you think my dad lives in San Diego?”
“No clue.”
“To get away from all of this. It wrecked his life. It wrecked his marriage. It was terrible. He started out in the DA’s office, part of the good guys like he was raised to be my grandpa. Then he gets manipulated by relatives and Ma to help out her family.”
“And so it starts.”
“Yeah. A favor for an in-law. They keep coming around for favors. It never ends. So he’s a corrupt Assistant DA. Totally wrecked him. He starts drinking a lot. Staying away from home. Possibly had an affair, I don’t know. Shit I’ve heard. So, he quits and joins a criminal defense firm. At least he’s not corrupt anymore. But his family was really upset with him. He’s one of the bad guys. They make the arrest and Mikey gets them off scot-free. Except for the bill he charges them. But then we were rich. We get the really big house in the Point. Good times. He just sold his soul to the Devil for it.”
“Is that what caused the divorce?”
His gaze moved away. He inhaled and exhaled hard.
“MJ?”
“Pheeb.”
“No. You need to talk about it. Death of a child is notorious for ripping families apart.”
“I do not want to talk about MJ. Okay? God! You’re like one of those fucking VA therapists. No means no.”
He sat up.
“Don’t go.”
“Are you going to harass me about my brother?”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll get up and leave if you do.”
“I get that. Just lay back down.”
“Am I getting nookie?”
“You are such a romantic. You know that?”
He smiled. “Regular old Southie Casanova, right here.”
3.
“Em, could you do me a favor?” Phebe sat down on the lounger beside her.
A crescent moon rose higher.
“Sure.”
Insects trilled. Moths flew around lanterns.
“Don’t go at Peter over South Boston please.”
“He told you? I’m surprised. He doesn’t act like he cares.”
“That’s just the way he is. What happened way, way back then was more complicated than you may have heard.”
“It’s not just the past. They continued it.”
“But it is not here, Em. What are you trying to do? Make the world politically correct in the middle of this? Your thinking is from the Before. It’s as bad as those white supremacists.”
“Excuse me?”
“No, don’t get offended. Hear me out.”
“You just said I’m as bad as those Nazi white supremacists.”
“It’s an obsession with racism, just the opposite sides of the same coin.”
Emily crossed her arms. “Don’t know about that.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“No. I feel like crap all the time. And I get angry out of the blue. I threw Brandon out of the bedroom last night.”
“I do that all the time with Sullivan. He just ignores it and laughs. Try throwing things at Brandon. It’s cathartic.”
Chapter Six
1.
“I got satellite phone,” Eric yelled. He ran through the house. “I got a phone connection!”
“Are you serious?” asked Peter.
“Yeah. But I got no phone numbers.”
“I got numbers.”
“Let’s go.”
Peter sat anxiously on the leather sofa in the yacht saloon, listening to a phone ring through speakers. He wore a headset for the mouthpiece.
“Yeah, Sullivan.” His sister Caitlyn’s gruff voice with a very heavy South Boston accent. “Who’s this number I don’t know?”
“Your brother,” Peter said.
“Are you shitting me? Petey? Really you?”
“Really me.”
Eric mouthed, “Petey?”
Peter shrugged a What can you do?
Caitlyn’s voice choked with emotion. “You okay?” She yelled at the indistinguishable chorus of voices in the background, “Youse shut up. It’s Petey, my brother.”
“No shit?” a male voice nearby asked.
“Petey,” she said. “You okay?”
“I am.”
“Where are you?”
“We’re in the Zone. South Carolina. Doing some tourism in a historic city. We’re all okay. I mean, some of us. There’s been losses. But we’re getting shit under control. Listen, I don’t know how long this connection will hold. Other people got to use it.”
She shushed the people in the background.
“Look, I’m married and I got a baby on the way. Her name is Phebe Marcelino.”
“Whoa. Wait. What?”
“Married. Baby. Phebe Marcelino. The first name spelled without the Greek O.”
“Is her mother Colleen Marcelino?”
“Yeah. How do you know that?”
“We got a missing people in the Zone internet board. Me and her, we had Matt Gleason and Wilmington in common, so it popped us up together. It works like that. Searching for common things. Wait. You are gonna be a father? You pulling my leg.”
Peter smiled. His eyes shined with happiness.
“Nuh. It’s all true. I swear to God. If all goes well. Baby’s holding on through the shit.”
“I can't believe it.” She then yelled to everyone in the room, “He’s married and gonna have a baby.”
Cheers. Voces yelled, “Congratulations.”
“Ain't no moss grows on him,” a man’s voice.
“Precinct bullpen says congratulations,” Caitlyn said.
“Cate, listen to me.”
“I’m here.”
“Are you in contact with anyone else through this board?”
“The Gleasons. But they’re in there own shit now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some crap with the government ordering culling all their horses.”
“Matt will be pissed. Julio’s wife?”
“Of course.”
“Julio’s gone.”
“What do you mean by gone?”
“As in, ya know.”
She sighed. “Shit. I liked him. A nice guy.”
“I got Gleason, Higgins and some folks you don’t know. You are alright there? Life goes on?”
“Relatively speaking. Everyone’s freaking the fuck out, but it’s not Zoned up here. Yet! New Jersey is evacuating. There’s talk about New York starting to. I don’t know what the hell we’re gonna do.”
“Where are they going?”
“They’re not supposed to go west of the Mississippi Delta. It’s going right up the rivers. The Reyes family are going west. They got relatives on the west coast or southwest or something.”
“Good. Listen to me. Get your pad out. I need you on that board looking for relatives of Emily Goldstein from Kure Beach. Spelled K-U-R-E. North Carolina, greater Wilmington area. Her parents were Sheila and Frank. They’re dead.”
“How the hell does that come out Carry?”
“Don’t ask. Next one. Brandon Pell. P-E-double L. A Marine stationed to Camp Lejeune. He’s from, um …?” He looked at Eric.
“Montana.”
“He’s from Montana.”
“Is Goldstein from New York? I mean, she’s gotta be, right? Jews don’t come from the South.”
“Yeah, cos it’s nineteen sixty-two here. No, yeah, she happens to be from New York. Like, above Manhattan or something. You got Pell?”
“Yeah.”
“Ben Running Elk Raven, from Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. He’s Lakota. A cop from Wilmington. Former U-S-M-C.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“No. Yeah, he really is. His grandfather is George Standing Bear Wilson.”
She laughed. “How the fuck are you
meeting these people? An Indian? Um, excuse me. A Native American.”
“He’s the coolest guy ever. A good man. Don’t know what we’d do without him. But his grandfather is important to him.”
“What am I doing with these people?”
“Making a phone tree, once you find them. Just in case we can’t get in touch again. Never know in the Zone. This satellite phone computer whatever-the-fuck rigged here may be on somebody’s credit card about to max out, for all I know. Just do it, Cate.”
“I’m doing it. I’m writing it all down. Standing Bear. Got it.” She chuckled.
“Next. Mazy Baptiste from New Orleans. Cop Wilmington. Former USMC lieutenant.”
“Wow. Okay. Next?”
He looked at Eric. “Who else has family outside the Zone?”
“You got you, Phebe, Emily, Brandon –”
“Fuck. Jimbo.”
“Who?”
“Cate, I need you to contact Jimbo Conway’s family in East Texas. He didn’t make it.”
“Aw, Christ. The little cop guy I met that time visiting you?”
“Yeah.”
“May God keep him.”
“Sure, Cate.”
“Hey, there's the roommates of Phebe her mother was asking about?”
“Rebecca and Syanna are dead.”
“Oh, fuck. They’re fucking kids.”
“Where’s Phebe’s brother?”
“He’s with her mom on Long Island.”
“Good. She’ll be relieved. Are they okay?”
“Okay is kind of relative nowadays, little brother. Everyone’s out of work and losing their minds. Except for us cops. Assholes decided it’s time again to be dicks to us like they did during corona.”
“They’re breathing, have all their limbs, not foaming at the mouth, that kind of okay?”
“Then yes, they are. Now they’re family, right?”
“They are your in-laws.”
“You snagged the daughter.” She laughed.
“Helps to knock ‘em up.”
“A shotgun wedding, huh?”
“Yeah. Except the gun was on her.”
“She really a Ph.D.?”
“Almost. It’s so good to hear your voice, you maniac.”
“You too, you reta’d. I knew you’d get through this shit. But Julio and Jimbo. That’s a huge blow.”
“Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yeah, since you don’t have to tell the families.”
“Just do it. You’re a cop. You’ve done death notifications before.”
“Not for anyone I knew. But I’ll figure it out. You just keep surviving and keep that baby going. Any way for you to come home?”
“We’re doing alright here.”
“Yeah. Gonna make a visit kind of hard. Got a baby shower to do, huh?”
“Visits will be easier when Mass is in the Zone, too.”
“You think that’s funny, huh, wise guy? Boston is already losing it’s shit tenfold. Assholes think they can loot.”
“You got zoms?”
“We got what?”
“Zoms? The sick that froth at the mouth and try to bite you?”
“Oh. Is that short for zombies? Youse really call ‘em that?”
“We do. How’s the sitch with them?”
“Pop up now and again. Enough to make everyone crazy. This shit is making COVID look like the rehearsal.”
“Does her family, my in-laws need to evac New York?”
“Probably.”
“Get them to you. House ‘em. They’re family. She can’t lose her mom and brother. For me, house them.”
“Ma would. They’re Catholics, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll bend over backwards for ‘em. No worries about that. Hey, she’s gonna ask if you got married in a church.”
“Oh, so that’s gonna be the important thing. Figures. We were married by a black A-M-E preacher. She can stick that up her cross. And we live with a gay guy. Screaming quire type.”
“Oh, she’ll love that.”
“And a Voodoo altar in our front parlor.”
Caitlyn laughed. “You really want me to share all this with her?”
“Your discretion.”
“It’ll depend on how much she pisses me off. Her grandchild incubating among heathens. Like that high school girlfriend of yours. You know, I’ve seen her a couple months ago. She’s got kids.”
“A lot of people do that by my age.”
“She looks good. She asks about you.”
“What’s Dad doing?”
“Flying here. His ticket costs over two thousand dollars.”
“Whoa. Is he flying first-class or something?”
“Nuh. That’s how much coach is running nowadays. The prices keep going up for flying into anywhere east of the Mississippi River.”
“Those greedy basta’ds.”
“Nuh. The risk to the flight crew type shit.”
“Whatever excuse, huh?”
“Can’t fly in or outta the country. Everything’s internationally locked down. China is blaming us for the virus like we made it and used it on our own people first. The cocksucker commies.”
He laughed. “I got freaking snowflake Millennials here. It’s good to hear the utterly politically incorrect.”
“Somebody’s gotta carry the banner. Is Phebe one of them?”
“Nuh. She’s a realist.”
“Good. Cos I don’t think she’s gonna fit in around here if she’s got lots of sensitivities.”
Eric pointed to a watch on his wrist that wasn’t there.
“Okay, Cate, listen. My allotted time is running out. Other people need to use this phone, like my wife.”
“Yeah. Appease the preggers wife. Can’t believe my little brother is gonna be a father. What’s the world coming to. You’re actually married. I always figured some girl would contact you and present your five-year-old kid to you.”
“Thanks. Appreciate that.”
“Nuh. But seriously, everyone will be thrilled to hear the news. And … love ya, little brother.”
“Love you too. Give my love to the rest of them.”
“I will.”
He didn’t want to hang up.
“Okay, bye for now,” he said.
Phebe came into the saloon. A big smile. Her face radiated excitement.
“Pheebs, say hello into the phone.”
“Huh?”
“Just, c’mon.”
She bent over. “Hello.”
“That’s her.”
“I didn’t think you made her up,” Caitlyn responded.
“Alright. I’m going now. Bye, sis.”
“Bye, bro.”
He pulled the headset off.
“Got your mom’s number? Your brother’s in New York with her.”
“Oh, thank God!” She touched her heart chakra and exhaled a breath she didn’t know she had been holding in. “He’s okay.”
Peter told her about the internet board.
“They’re in touch?”
“Relatively speaking. I’ll write down Cate’s cell number to give to your ma. We’ll use her as the hub. Not my mom. She’ll put it into a Saint’s hands and nothing will get done.”
“You ready?” Eric asked.
“Oh my God. I’m nervous. It’s been so long.” She pulled on the headset.
“Other people are gonna be here soon to talk to their family, babe.”
“Okay. Okay.”
Peter asked Eric, “What else does this place have?”
“There’s champagne in the refrigerator.”
“Oh. We may be compelled to bust that open. Nothing but the best in this place.”
Phebe waited as the phone rang.
“Hello?” her mother’s strong Long Island accent came through.
Instant tears in Phebe's eyes. “Ma?”
No response.
“Ma, it’s me.”
“Phebe?” Colleen’s
voice broke. “Phebe? My baby?”
“Yeah, Ma. It’s me. I’m on a satellite connection we acquired.”
“Where are you, baby? Are you alright?”
“I’m okay.”
Peter returned with a microbrew for himself, fancy seltzer water for her, and tissues.
She yanked a tissue from the box to dab her eyes.
“Oh, thank God!” Colleen then yelled, “It’s her. It’s my Phebe. On the phone. Right now.”
Anthony’s voice came closer in the background. “It’s Phebe? Seriously?”
“Yeah, it’s her.”
“Turn on speaker. I wanna talk to my sister.”
“Okay. Hold on.”
The sounds of their voices changed.
“Hey, kiddo,” her brother said. “We’ve been worried sick about you. You okay?”
“Yeah.” Phebe sniffled. “I was worried about you, too. When did you leave Florida?”
He scoffed. “That place. Actually, I came up to New York because you were missing. Ma and the aunts were going crazy. Good thing. Cos they shut down the Miami-Dade airport soon after. Florida’s zoned.”
“Did your girlfriend come with you?”
“No. She had to stay with her family. Ya know, Cubans.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“They’re actually trying to get back to Cuba last I heard. They still got phones and shit in Florida.”
“That’s ironic. Cuba?”
“Because it don’t have the virus.”
“But if they all go back there, it could.
Colleen’s crying voice, “Baby, how are you?”
“I’m okay, Ma. But I got news. I’m pregnant. I mean, I’m married and pregnant. His name is Peter Sullivan.”
Peter smiled and raised his beer.
“Ya what?”
“Ma, have you been in touch with Caitlyn Sullivan?”
Anthony’s voice, “Ma, she said she’s married and pregnant. She’s starting a family.”
“How is that possible? You’re in life or death there.”
“Well, it’s not constant life or death,” Phebe said.
Anthony chuckled. “Obviously. But congratulations, kiddo. That’s great. Or I think it is. I don’t know. Having a baby … there?”
“It is what it is. I didn’t purposely set out for it.”
“My baby’s going to be a mother … there. No, no. We have to get you home. What is it like there? Are there hospitals?”
“No, but I have medical people with me.”
“Who? An ob-gyn?”
